


(kiss me) underneath the mistletoe

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 15:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The annual holiday party is right around the corner and Noct really wishes the idea of being set up with strangers didn't make him panic to the point of telling his dad he's dating Ignis.Whoops?





	(kiss me) underneath the mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> written for [daddyolusamicitia](http://daddyolusamicitia.tumblr.com) on tumblr for the [ignoctsecretsanta exchange](http://ignoctsecretsanta.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> yall this was supposed to be a couple k of cheesy fake dating for the holidays but Somehow it turned into a 6k beast with probably more melodramatic pining than necessary?? idk guys i didnt have to go this hard but here we are lol

The smell of spices and sound of sizzling meat greets Noct as he pushes into his apartment, kicking off his shoes at the door. He inhales deeply, mouth beginning to water, and sighs in content. Dropping his bag by the couch, he pads to the kitchen where Ignis is standing at the stove, humming to himself.

“Smells good, Specs,” he says, hopping onto one of the breakfast bar stools. “What’re you making?”

Ignis’s humming pauses as he turns to give Noct an acknowledging smile. “Chicken parmesan,” he answers, turning back to the sauce. “I found the recipe online and thought it sounded like something you would like.”

“I usually do, especially since you’re making it,” Noct agrees, pulling out his phone. He ignores the texts from Prompto and Gladio heckling him about something from earlier in the day, replying to the one from Nyx asking about gift ideas for Luna, and finally returning the missed call from his dad.

He puts it on speaker and sets it on the breakfast bar, listening to it ring a couple times before his dad answers.

“Hey, Dad,” Noct greets when Regis picks up with a soft _Hello, son_. “What’s up?”

“A father can’t want to speak to his son just because?” Regis teases, and Noct grins.

“You could,” he agrees, “but you didn’t. You called in the middle of classes, which you knew I was in, because it’s probably mildly important.”

Ignis snorts, dicing tomatoes to throw into the sauce. Regis doesn’t miss it, and doesn’t deny Noct’s accusations.

“You know me too well, my boy,” Regis sighs fondly. “Hello, Ignis. Is your evening going well?”

“Just fine,” Ignis replies. “We’re having chicken parmesan.”

“Are you serving a vegetable with it?”

Noct makes a face of disgust as Ignis looks over his shoulder, a challenge in his eyes. “Grilled asparagus,” he says, and Noct gags theatrically. “He won’t get dessert until he chokes it all down.”

“Very good,” Regis approves, and Noct pouts in betrayal. _Traitors._ “And Noct, do please eat it all. You’re a growing boy, and you need to eat a more balanced diet than you currently do.”

“My diet’s fine,” Noct counters petulantly. “Specs make sure of it. He likes to see me suffer.”

“I like to see you eating healthy,” Ignis corrects. He stirs the freshly diced tomatoes into the sauce in his pan. “Vegetables are not the end of the world, Noct.”

“ _Vegetables are not the end of the world, Noct,”_ Noct mocks in a high pitched voice, accent purposefully skewed, and Ignis arches an eyebrow at him while Regis chuckles on the other end of the phone. “I hate you both.”

“Thank you for taking care of him, Ignis,” Regis says, and Ignis inclines his head even though Regis can’t see it. “I worry about him.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Ignis reassures him. “It’s no trouble at all.” There’s a soft smile on his face as he goes back to his cooking. “I enjoy his company.”

Regis hums. “I’m glad he has you.”

“I am literally still here,” Noct interjects, incredulous. “What the hell, Dad. I can hear everything you say.”

“I’m glad you have Ignis, son,” Regis says. Noct blinks. _Unbelievable._ “I worry about you. Someone needs to be there to take care of you.”

“I am twenty years old,” Noct says, indignant. “Most people consider that an adult.”

“Most adults don’t refuse to eat their vegetables simply because they don’t like the taste,” Regis points out, and damn it, he’s got Noct there.

“It’s not just the taste,” Noct grumbles, crossing his arms and slumping over on the counter as Ignis snorts, biting his lip on a laugh. Noct glares at him. _Asshole._ “It’s the texture, too. It’s just. Ugh.”

“Whatever you say, son,” Regis says cheerfully, and Noct is surrounded by assholes.

“But anyway,” Regis continues, and Noct sighs, “you’re right. I did have something I wanted to talk about.”

“Fire away, old man,” Noct says, making a gesture. Regis chuckles again, and even the corner of Ignis’s lip curls up as he checks the oven where the chicken has been baking.

“Well, as you know,” Regis begins, and Noct hears some shuffling on his end—he must be in his office still—“we have that company holiday party to attend while you’re visiting. Don’t roll your eyes at me in that tone of voice,” he chastises when Noct groans loudly, overexaggerating. “It’s annual, and you’ll live. You always do.”

“Do I _have_ to?” Noct whines, pleading. “I don’t wanna go, Dad. Please don’t make me go. I hate it. Everything’s too stuffy and the hors d’oeuvres suck.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that,” Regis allows, “but don’t tell any of them I said that. But it’s only polite and courteous that we attend. You know this.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Noct grumbles to himself. Ignis starts puttering around, getting out plates. Dinner must be almost ready. His mouth starts watering. “Anyway, yeah, I know about the party. What about it?”

“I need to know if I need to put you down for a plus one this year.” Regis gets straight to the point, finally tired of beating around the bush and prolonging his son’s misery. “Otherwise I’ll be obliged to introduce you to—”

“Yes,” Noct says quickly, and his heart rate has skyrocketed as the thought of having to smile and make nice with the daughters of his dad’s business partners creeps into the back of his mind. “Yeah, I have a plus one this year.”

It’s quiet on his dad’s end for a heartbeat or two, and even Ignis is looking at him with raised brows, mildly intrigued and surprised. It catches up with him, then, what he’s implied, and Noct feels his cheeks go red. He can’t seem to look away from Ignis, though, eyes wide and panicked.

“Is that so,” Regis says slowly, and there’s a hint of—contentment? Happiness? Pleased approval?—in his voice, enough to calm Noct’s racing pulse somewhat. “Well, son, can I ask who it is? Though if you want to surprise—”

“It’s Ignis,” Noct says in a rush, gaze caught on Ignis’s still, and Ignis is so taken aback that his mouth actually falls open, eyes widening in disbelief. “I’m bringing Ignis as my plus one.”

He can almost hear his dad’s confused frown on the other end. “Noct, you know—”

“He’s my boyfriend, Dad,” Noct interrupts, knowing how that sentence would end: _You know people will talk. You know people will assume. You know people will think Ignis is more than a friend. You know the plus one is supposed to be more than a friend._ “I’m sorry we never mentioned it before. It just…” He trails off, draws in a deep breath, resigning himself to the hole he’s digging himself into.

He looks apologetically at Ignis, still as a statue by the stove, and hopes he can forgive Noct. “It just kinda happened,” he says softly, gently, watching Ignis, heart pounding in his chest and ears ringing. “And it’s kinda new, and we’re still—getting used to that. The whole ‘boyfriends’ thing, I mean. Sorry.”

Regis is quiet on the other end, and Noct makes himself take steady, even breaths. Ignis seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor Noct’s sudden excuse put him into, and he turns back to the stove. Thankfully, nothing has burned, and he begins plating them each a portion.

As Ignis finally sits at the counter with him, Regis speaks. “Are you happy, son?”

Noct looks up from his plate, catching Ignis watching him intently. There’s something gentle in his eyes, something resolute, and the edges of his mouth curl up in an encouraging smile. His heart stutters. The words spill from his lips before he can really think about them. “Yeah, I am,” he says, soft. “Really happy.”

“And you, Ignis?”

“Nothing brings me more joy than being with Noct,” Ignis says, just as gentle, and Noct’s heart beats heavily in his chest. It sounds like a confession.

Regis hums. “Then I’m happy for you both,” he says, and Noct breathes out. “I’ll see you both at the party, yes?”

“Indeed,” Ignis says, casual, and he begins cutting up his chicken. “I’ll even make sure he irons his suit before we arrive.”

Regis laughs, and the tension of the atmosphere breaks. Noct turns back to his own plate, grumbling half-heartedly about traitors and betrayal. He pushes his asparagus to the edge of his plate with his fork, then sighs in resignation at the look Ignis gives him, eyebrow quirked. _You owe me this_ his expression says, and yeah, that’s fair.

“I’ll let you boys get on with your meal, then,” Regis says, and Noct pulls his phone towards himself. “Have a good evening, son. Ignis.”

“Same to you, Dad,” Noct says, and Ignis says a soft _Enjoy your evening, sir_ as Noct hangs up.

Dinner is quiet, the clink of their forks against their plates the only sound in the room. The chicken parmesan is amazing, like Noct knew it would be, because nothing Ignis makes is every truly _awful._ Even the asparagus isn’t inedible; Noct only makes a face once, on the first bite, and mostly out of principle—he knows the least he can do after dragging Ignis into this mess is eat his damn vegetables.

It seems trivial now, silly and childish to complain about vegetables in the face of _lying to his dad about dating Ignis._

_Gods, what was I thinking?_ Noct wants to go curl up in bed and sleep for a week so he doesn’t have to look anyone in the face. He can’t even make eye contact with Ignis anymore; he stares at his empty plate, at the table, at the windows, anywhere but the man beside him. Ignis takes his own empty plate to the sink to do dishes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so he doesn’t get them wet. His shoulders are relaxed and he’s humming softly again, like he didn’t just play along with Noct’s insane lies spouted in an anxious panic, like Noct hadn’t just _told his dad they are romantically involved._

The tension is back in full force and as Noct sets his plate on the counter beside the sink, he breaks under it. “I’m so sorry, Specs,” he rushes out in a breath, shoulders slumping. Words keep spilling from him as Ignis looks over at him, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to say any of that, I just—I panicked, I guess.”

He wrings his hands together, running them through his hair roughly, frustrated—at the situation, at himself. _Six, why am I so stupid._ “It just—it just sort of slipped out, you know, because it’s always the same at those things, and I _hate_ talking to people, and I really didn’t want him trying to set me up with any of them and—I panicked. I’m sorry.”

Gentle, warm hands take him by the shoulders, and Noct inhales sharply, looking up wide-eyed. Ignis just looks concerned, eyebrows drawn together, mouth turned down at the corners.

“Breathe, Noct,” he says, soothing, calming, and Noct exhales, tension falling away and suddenly he’s very tired. He slumps forward, and Ignis wraps his arms around him. “Just breathe. You’re fine.”

Ignis smells like clean laundry and cinnamon. Noct buries his nose in his shirt, enjoying the warmth. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and Ignis shushes him.

“Hush,” Ignis says, fond. “It’s okay.” He holds Noct tighter, his heartbeat a steady, strong thump in his chest. Noct times his breaths to it— _in, two three, four; out, two, three, four_ —and feels himself relax. “It’s no trouble, I promise,” he adds after a moment, and Noct pushes back to look up at him, miserable.

“You don’t mind?” Noct asks, quiet, and Ignis gives him a soft, exasperated smile.

“Not at all,” he says. “Though I was certainly surprised, to be sure. Can’t say I expected the night to end with pretending to be in a relationship.”  His eyes twinkle playfully, and Noct manages a smile, shoving at his shoulder mock indignantly.

“I am sorry, though,” Noct says again, and he cuts Ignis off when he opens his mouth to protest. “No, no, it was spur of the moment and—really weird, and now I’ve dragged you into this, so just let me apologize, okay?”

Ignis curls his lips in, obviously holding his tongue, and Noct glares at him until he relents. “Very well,” he sighs, releasing Noct to go back to the dishes. “But I mean it: it’s no trouble.”

Noct scoffs, half laugh, half snort. It’s a defeated sound, but he’s feeling crazy enough to see the amusement in it. Somewhere. “Right. It’s just _lying to my dad about being in a relationship,_ but no biggie, yeah?”

There’s a thoughtful look on Ignis’s, face, and when he turns his head towards Noct, there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “As I hear it, we act enough like a couple as it is already,” he says casually, a playful curl to the corner of his mouth. “I doubt it’ll really come as a shock.”

Noct blinks, mouth gaping for several beats before he rolls his eyes and throws his hands up. “I can’t believe this,” he mutters, slumping against the counter. “Why aren’t you, I don’t know, more freaked out by this?”

“’This’ being?” Ignis prompts, eyebrow quirked, and oh, that’s not fair.

“I don’t know, my stupidity, maybe?” Noct grumbles, face hot.

Ignis snorts, and Noct glares in betrayal. “I’ve gotten quite used to that,” he says pleasantly, and his genuine smile makes Noct’s insides melt. “But to answer you seriously, perhaps it’s because this isn’t something worthy of ‘freaking out’ about.”

“How is it _not_?”

Ignis finishes with the last of the dishes, placing the plate in the drying rack, and wiping his hands on a towel to dry them. He turns to Noct, contemplative, before moving past him to the fridge. Noct watches as he opens it, pauses for a beat, then reaches in to retrieve a plate with several little tarts on it, chilled just the way Noct likes. He takes them to the counter, setting them beside Noct’s arm, then picks one up, examining it as if for imperfections before offering it to Noct.

Noct gazes at Ignis a moment longer before moving his eyes to the tart. The crust is the perfect golden brown, and the filling is a pale yellow, probably lemon this time, the edges decorated with little spots of whipped cream. He reaches out, fingers trailing up Ignis’s hand in a barely-there caress, lingering for a heartbeat, before he gently takes the tart.

It _is_ lemon, and Noct hums contentedly, smiling up at Ignis as he wipes crumbs from his lips. Ignis smiles back, pleased, and picks up a tart for himself.

A comfortable silence settles over them as they finish their tarts. Noct eats three because they’re just _that good_ and Ignis, despite himself, is actually an enabler and keeps handing them to him. He puts the ones left back in the fridge, covered in saran wrap, and heads for the couch, where he takes one end and gathers his work while Noct follows him and flops across the other. Evening is moving into night, and Noct grumbles as he drags himself to pull out his homework for his Classics class.

The next time Noct looks at a clock, it’s nearly two in the morning. His eyes are starting to droop as he mindlessly runs around in his video game, doing side quests. He yawns, and Ignis looks up from his book, glancing at the clock as well.

“I suppose that’s our cue,” he says, closing his book. He begins gathering his things, and Noct watches sleepily as he putters around. The sudden desire to not be alone takes him, and the words are out before he can think.

“Will you stay?” he asks, and Ignis pauses in putting his papers in his bag.

“Of course.”

They clean up, Noct putting his game system away and making sure all his homework is back in his bag. Ignis makes sure all dishes are put away and they take turns brushing their teeth and putting on their pajamas. Tired as he is, Noct doesn’t let himself think about it when he pulls Ignis into bed with him, curling up against his side. Ignis is warmth and familiarity and comfort, and Noct sighs, relaxing.

Ignis shifts around, putting his glasses on the bedside table and setting an alarm on his phone before lying down beside Noct. Noct opens one eye, bleary, and smiles sleepily. Ignis smiles back, soft, and runs his fingers through Noct’s hair, brushing it out of his eyes, fingertips trailing down Noct’s cheek so lightly it almost tickles.

“’Night, Specs,” Noct mumbles, eyes closed, and he feels Ignis shift, tucking him closer. He falls asleep with Ignis’s soft _Sleep well, beloved_ whispering through his mind, so soft he’s not sure it isn’t part of a dream.

He dreams that this is how it is all the time, spending his days bickering with Ignis about vegetables and homework, and curling up with him at night, soft murmurs of _beloved_ in his ear, Ignis’s fingers carding through his hair, Ignis’s lips against his skin, his hair, his lips.

He dreams that it’s not just a false statement made in panic when he tells his dad that he and Ignis are together.

He dreams that it’s _real_ and is filled with a profound disappointment when he wakes up in the morning, blinking blearily up at the ceiling, and finds the other side of the bed is cold.

 

The night of the holiday party arrives too soon, and Noct drags his feet the entire time he and Ignis are getting ready for it. They’d stopped by the tailor earlier in the week for last-minute suit adjustments ( _You haven’t worn that suit in a year, Noct,_ Ignis had said, simple and matter-of-fact as he dragged Noct out, and, well. He wasn’t wrong) and suffered endless mocking and sniggers from Gladio and Prompto when they found out that Noct panicked and told his dad that he and Ignis are dating.

Noct even got a text from _Luna_ about it and he’d crawled right back into bed, determined to suffocate himself beneath his pillow before the party. Ignis had put an unfortunate stop to his antics, preventing the death he craved with his favorite rice dish for dinner followed by more tarts in his absolute favorite berry flavor.

Noct cursed his stomach as he shoved mouthfuls of food down to it, and he cursed his inability to resist the soft, fond look Ignis gave him while he did so.

It’s pure torture to be in love with your best friend, he decides.

_Definitely torture,_ Noct bemoans to himself as Ignis steps out of the bedroom, adjusting his cufflinks. His suits hugs all the right angles and curves of his body, accentuating long legs that go on for miles and his trim waist. His lapels are a shiny black against the matte of the jacket, and his pocket square is a bold red in the spirit of the holiday. His hair is slicked up into its usual spikes, and Noct inhales his familiar cologne, something deep and heady and soothing.

Really, it’s nothing special. He looks as he always does when he’s being professional, casually grabbing his wallet and keys and putting on his coat. He’s humming to himself, and Noct recognizes it as a familiar lullaby he used to sing to Noct as kids when Noct couldn’t sleep.

It’s nothing special, and yet Noct finds his breath caught in his chest as he watches Ignis move about, graceful and elegant, helping Noct into his own coat and holding the door for him as they step of the apartment and head for the parking garage, and he bites his lip as they slide into the car.

It's just for tonight. He can play at dating his best friend for _one night._

_One night won’t be enough_.

Noct slumps against the window during the drive to the Citadel, the grand hotel where every holiday business party ever hosted by their family has taken place. Its sprawling structure dominates the center of Insomnia, lit up brightly from the inside and decorated on the outside with strands and strands of Christmas lights, wreaths, and towering evergreens full of more lights and baubles and ornaments big as his head. Everything is dusted in a thickening layer of snow, more flurries falling steadily. Stars twinkle in the rapidly darkening sky—it’s only barely six-thirty, but it looks more like midnight.

Ignis pulls them up to the entrance, and Noct gets out as he hands the keys to one of the valets. The winter wind bites at his cheeks, and he shivers, tucking his nose into his scarf. A gentle pressure on his arm pulls his gaze over to Ignis now beside him. Concern lights his eyes as he looks at Noct, but a soft smile pulls up the corners of his mouth. He offers his arm.

“Shall we?”

Taking a deep breath— _in, out_ —Noct slides beneath Ignis’s arm, pressing himself as close as he can to the warmth emanating from him, and tucks his face into Ignis’s neck. “As I can be,” he murmurs, and they head toward the Citadel. Ignis’s arm settles comfortably easy around his waist, and his heart stutters at the kiss Ignis presses into the top of his head.

Soft strains of cheerful holiday music fill the Citadel as Noct and Ignis enter, and Noct inhales the sweet, enticing aromas of cinnamon and apple spice, something he’s always associated as being the unique smell of Christmas. The air is warm, and his shoulders relax bit by bit as they make their way in, dropping their coats at the entrance desk before heading to the ballroom used for the main festivity. He finds a certain sense of comfort in the familiar atmosphere, heady smells of savory food and bright chatter mixing with music provided by the orchestra in the corner.

Impulsively, Noct moves to the long buffet tables set on the edges of the floor, moving with practiced grace between the bodies of the guests attending. Most of these people are employees of his dad and their families, plus employees from other branches visiting the city that never sleeps who were extended an invitation. Men in sleek suits, women in fine gowns, laughing and making merry—it fills Noct with a small amount of pride to know they’re happy with what they do.

Ignis doesn’t say anything as Noct reaches the table and immediately makes to fill a plate full of the finger foods laid out. His pointedly raised eyebrow is ignored in favor of the pigs in blankets and little cheese cubes, and Noct immediately shoves a small tart into his mouth to keep from having to say anything.

“No wonder Regis wants you to have someone by your side,” he laments, taking two flutes of champagne from the tray offered to him by a passing waiter. He holds one out to Noct, the other kept close in his delicate fingers. “You’re an absolute slob left to your own devices.”

“Hey,” Noct protests, mouth still half-full, and okay, point. He chews quickly and swallows, taking the offered flute and a large gulp to clear his mouth. Ugh. Champagne. He pouts at Ignis, looking away sheepishly. “Don’t judge me.”

Ignis is fighting a smirk, he can tell. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” he says sweetly, and Noct’s cheeks are getting hot.

“Shut up,” he mutters without heat, and he leans into Ignis, headbutting him gently in the chin.

The arm around his waist is intimate, his weight against Ignis almost _too_ natural, _too_ comfortable. It’s too easy to lean in, tuck his head under Ignis’s chin, and sigh in contentment, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than at a stupid holiday party, waiting to see and say hi to his dad, wrapped up in the arms of the man he’s hopelessly in love with.

_And_ pretending to be in a romantic relationship with—can’t forget that bit. It’s tiring, a little, pretending to only _pretend_ to be in love and not let on that he actually _is_ in love while making being in love look _real._

This was such a bad idea.

They stay by the buffet for a little while, conversing quietly between themselves. Several people come up to Noct, introducing themselves and asking about him just because he’s Noctis Lucis Caelum, heir to a multibillion dollar corporation that provides security and protection for two-thirds of the world, and they want to be able to go home and tell their friends _Hey, I met the son of the richest man in the world, how cool is that!_

After the sixth person that he has to shake hands with, his smile becomes less and less pleasant. He can feel it hardening into something more like a grimace, something tired and forced because _Impressions are important, son_ and he tries to set aside his own discomfort. It’s just pleasantries, he tells himself over and over, it’s just pleasantries, it makes them happy, let them have this.

In a lull between people, Ignis lays a hand on his waist, and he tries not to shiver when Ignis bends his head to murmur softly in his ear, “Shall we go greet your father?”

Noct turns his head in the direction Ignis indicates with an incline of his head, and he tries not to let his relief show as he makes his excuses to the next wave of people coming up to him, having noticed his attendance.

“C’mon, Specs.” He throws back the last of his second flute of champagne with a grimace and grabs Ignis’s arm, pulling him along behind him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Regis smiles warmly as they approach, and Noct tries to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his pants, hyperaware of Ignis’s arm around him. _You got yourself into this mess. Deal with it._ He relaxes nonetheless when his dad wraps him in a tight hug, and he tucks his face into his shoulder, breathing in his dad’s cologne, understated and familiar. It’s comfort and safety to be in his dad’s arms, and Noct is surprised by how much he’s missed it.

“Missed you, Dad,” he mumbles, holding on longer than is really necessary, but Regis definitely doesn’t seem put out. A soft kiss is pressed to his head.

“I’ve missed you too, Noctis,” Regis murmurs back, and Noct squeezes him one more time before finally letting go. Regis’s hands land on his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length while he looks Noct up and down, a loving, proud glint in his eye. “You’ve grown up, son. And a fine young man you’re becoming.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Noct rolls his eyes as Regis pats his cheek but he’s smiling, too.

Regis releases his hold on him to turn to Ignis, bringing him into a hug as well, and Noct tries not to snicker at Ignis’s wide-eyed expression of surprise before he hesitantly hugs back. When he’s released, he steps back to Noct’s side, arm instinctually winding back around Noct’s waist. Noct tells himself to relax as Regis’s eyes dart to the movement, his grin softening into something fond and full of the kind of relief that comes with knowing your kid has someone to love in their life.

He tries to ignore the guilt gnawing away at his insides and the voice in his head that keeps repeating _This isn’t real you lied to him he’s going to be so disappointed in you this is all a lie_ and leans into Ignis’s side, looking away and praying it comes across as bashful as he presses his face into Ignis’s shoulder.

He hopes his dad can’t see the shame in his eyes.

“I feel like I should have seen this,” Regis muses, as they each take another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “But I have to admit I find myself just a tad surprised nevertheless.”

He sips on his glass, regarding Noct and Ignis with bright eyes, and Noct wonders if he could pass off throwing his entire glass back in one gulp as embarrassment at the current situation.

“Yeah, well.” Noct manages to not empty his entire glass in one go, despite his better judgement. He looks up at Ignis, caught on the way his lips curl up in a subtle smirk as he sips at his own glass, looking way too pleased with himself. Noct licks his own lips, and he hopes to the gods he doesn’t look as lovestruck as he feels. He looks back at his dad, averting his eyes from the knowing look in Regis’s gaze. His cheeks are hot. “It kinda surprised me, too.”

Ignis nudges him playfully, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead, and if Noct hadn’t been the one to instigate this lie, he’d think this is actually real, that Ignis is actually here as his boyfriend and spoiling him with gestures of genuine romantic affection. It’s a heady sensation either way, soft lips against his skin, a sure arm around his waist, whiffs of warm, well-memorized cologne every time he turns his head.

Maybe that’s just the champagne going to his head.

“A pleasant surprise,” Ignis says, sipping at his glass. He squeezes Noct closer. “One I’m very glad of.”

Regis looks pleased, and Noct figures that’s all that matters. “I suppose I have to ask,” he starts, mischief in his eyes. “Who asked who?”

Noct shares a look with Ignis, panic rising in his chest. They’d talked about a story to tell in case of this very situation, but faced with the reality of _actually having to tell it to his dad_ he’s not sure it’s going to hold up.

“Noct asked me,” Ignis says, casual, with a hint of fond remembrance. “Though ‘asked’ in this case implies a certain amount of planning, which he’d most certainly lacked.” 

Regis raises an eyebrow, trying not to smirk, damn him, and Noct feels embarrassed about something that never even happened. How is this fair.

“You get tipsy _one time_ during finals,” Noct whines, glaring off into the distance, digging through his utter humiliation to remember what they’d decided on, “and suddenly telling your best friend that he’s hot and you wanna hold his hand for the rest of your life and maybe kiss him sometimes is _lacking planning._ I see how it is.”

It’s worth the embarrassment for the way his dad throws his head back and laughs, hearty and full. He wipes an actual tear from his eye, and Noct can’t help chuckling, too, Ignis’s grin wide and full of his bright teeth. He leans into Noct, sipping at his champagne.

“It seems to work for you,” he says softly, voice low and intimate, and Noct flushes from his ears to his collarbones. He shoves Ignis’s face away, the man chuckling at Noct’s put-out huff of _Shut up._

“I’m so happy for you two,” Regis says, smile wide and full of love. “I doubt there’s a better match in all of Eos.” He sets a hand on Noct’s and Ignis’s shoulder each, giving a gentle squeeze. “I love you boys. And a very merry Christmas to you both.”

“Love you, too, Dad,” Noct says for both of them, and with that Regis takes a refilled glass from another passing waiter and disappears into the fray, determined to mingle. Noct and Ignis are left to themselves, and Noct blows out a harsh breath.

“That went well,” Ignis says pleasantly, like he hadn’t spent the last ten or so minutes pretending to be sappily in love with Noct in front of _Noct’s dad._

“I need to lie down,” Noct decides, shoulders slumping. He looks down at his half-full glass of champagne and downs it in one gulp like he’d wanted to ten minutes ago. “I’m suddenly very tired of being awake and existing in this very specific moment in time.”

“Come now,” Ignis tuts, squeezing Noct around the waist because his arm is _still there._ “It isn’t awful, is it? I’m quite enjoying myself.”

Noct looks up at him, tracing his profile—the angle of his jaw, the point of his nose, the curve of his smile—with his eyes and finding a wry smile of his own, shaking his head as he looks away again. “This is the man I’ve chosen to love,” he laments to himself, dramatic sigh included, and painfully, painfully honest. Ignis just keeps _grinning._ “I must have really pissed off someone in a past life.”

“Definitely,” Ignis agrees, finishing off his own glass of champagne, and Noct can’t find it in himself to feel offended in the slightest. “But for what it’s worth,” he adds, eyes twinkling under the Christmas lights strung around, expression fond as he looks at Noct, “I’m glad you did.”

Something in the tone of his voice—low and intimate, sweetly murmured between them like it’s a secret only Noct gets to know—sends shivers up his spine, and Noct finds himself caught up in how close they are, heads tilted together and wrapped up in each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Ignis’s warm breaths puff against his cheek and he becomes aware of the gentle circles being rubbed into his hip, calming and reassuring.

And maybe it’s the champagne going to his head, but Noct feels bold suddenly, and he _wants._ There’s a voice in his head telling him this is a _bad, bad idea what are you thinking_ but he ignores the tight feeling of anxiety in his chest as he tugs on Ignis’s arm, leading him away from the buffet tables and to the doors that lead into the sprawling gardens that make up the center courtyard of the Citadel. He pauses just inside, closing his eyes at the biting winter air that nips at his cheeks, opening them to watch the flurries of snow drifting down from the midnight-colored sky and blanketing the city.

The gardens are as decked out as the rest of the Citadel, soft candlelight and tasteful decorations covering the hedges and fountains and lampposts placed periodically along the paths. Wreaths, garlands, trees, everything that screams _holidays_ and _Christmas_ loud and clear, but Noct ignores it all to glance up and—

_Here goes nothing._

His gaze is caught on the little sprig of mistletoe hanging above the door, tied with a red ribbon. It’s a strategic move to place it at the entrance to the gardens, where most party-goers end up when the champagne starts taking effect and the atmosphere turns intimate and close and everyone starts feeling romantic about the holidays. Subtle enough to be ignored if one so chose and no one would say a thing but obvious enough that it’s common to see people sharing kisses under it throughout the night.

“Noct?”

Gentle fingers brush against his cheek, tracing over his chin and bringing his eyes back to Ignis. The warmth and curiosity he finds in Ignis’s eyes, wrapped in something that looks like hope, has words spilling from his mouth before he thinks them through.

“I know I’ve had like three glasses of champagne so I’m probably officially a little tipsy at this point, and gods, if I didn’t set myself up for this one with that story, but—” He takes a deep breath and pushes on, even as Ignis looks at him with mild amusement but full of fondness. “—you’re really hot and I’d really like to hold your hand for the rest of my life and maybe even kiss you sometimes and I’d really like to lose the ‘fake’ part of this ‘fake dating’ thing and just be dating you for real.”

He pauses to catch his breath, and Ignis simply takes his hands, squeezes them in encouragement and lets him get out all the words built up in his chest since the night he’d told his dad he was bringing Ignis as his plus one. “I am very in love with you,” he says haltingly, testing the words on his tongue for the first time, and he links how they sound. His heart thumps loudly against his ribcage.

“And a good thing, too,” Ignis says, soft and quiet between them. He pulls Noct closer, and their noses bump as he leans down; Noct’s eyes fall closed in anticipation, and his lips part as Ignis’s breath ghosts across his face. “I happen to be very in love with you, as well.”

The kiss is sweet and tender, unhurried and chaste like he’s always pictured a first kiss should be. Well. A first kiss with Ignis, at any rate. It’s perfect either way, and Noct instinctively follows when Ignis pulls back, staying in his space and savoring the taste of champagne and cinnamon on Ignis’s lips. Ignis hums happily and steals another kiss, and Noct’s knees go a little weak.

“Guess this stupid party isn’t so bad after all,” he muses absently, and Ignis laughs. He takes Noct’s face in his hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and Noct melts.

_This is_ real _now. Guess that wasn’t such a bad idea after all._

“Shall we get out of here?” Ignis asks, pulling away just far enough to meet Noct’s eyes, and Noct nods furiously, taking Ignis’s hand and pulling him back through the room toward the exit.

They could enjoy the festivities from the comfort of his couch.

**Author's Note:**

> im cryin guys this is the longest thing ive written in a year im so happy
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> [tumblr](http://duscaenorange.tumblr.com)


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